


The Other Side - Epilogue

by TheOtherAdler



Series: The Other Side [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 10:19:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherAdler/pseuds/TheOtherAdler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since so many people have asked, here's the story of what happened after Thor and Loki returned to Asgard</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

On the shining throne of Asgard's sacred halls, Odin sat with a heavy heart--his two ravens having just confirmed the truth of the file he'd finished reading less than an hour ago. They had, as always, told the truth entire.

His son--his beloved first-born... but no, he reminded himself; his _only_ son--had been proven guilty of such crimes against a Midgardian woman that they couldn't possibly be ignored, not even from a a crown prince of the Realm Eternal. 

He knew, of course, that he had spoiled him, favored him, turned a blind eye for too many years to angry fathers and mothers demanding recompense for their injured daughters. Wan, tear-stained faces, too many to count. And bruises--mild at first, easily dismissed as youthful exuberance and perhaps inexperience... He'd spoken to him quietly about it, even laughed over it as he struggled to explain that a woman's body is soft and he must take care to keep his strength in check, even in the heat of passion. Thor had nodded dutifully and claimed his understanding as he stared into the fading sunlight with a strange, half-smile on his face.

For a few months all had been well, and then the first girl came to him, her mother crying into a filthy apron as her daughter showed him the purpling marks herself--at least the ones she could dared show to the King of All--while her mother had cried of injuries unfit to name in those golden halls and the girl could only hang her head in shame. This time, the fine was doubled and the girl whisked away to the healer's care.

There were murmurs in the village--silenced on pain of death--but still more fathers and mothers with injured daughters, one so badly that she'd fallen to her knees, doubled over and sobbing, in the very halls themselves. The healers had barely managed to treat the inner wounds before they claimed the girl's life.

Odin himself had struck his wife before--it was known and witnessed--but for Thor it was almost a kind of _sport_.

Again he was spoken to, but though there was no laughter this time, and he swore it would all cease, though he had no explanation for why he'd done any of it at all, only that strange, chilling half-smile again.

This time, things were quiet for years. He grew to a fine height, his broad, athletic form catching the eye of every maiden he seemed to come into contact with. If any further harm was done, none of them complained... And then there was that willowy slip of a girl, pale skin and fair hair, brown eyes as soft as a doe's. She'd have made a fine wife, many thought, and the pair always seemed so happy when he saw them together, but... slowly she began to change. She flinched at Thor's touch once or twice when they thought themselves unobserved, and shadows darkened her eyes. At a court function once, the shoulder of her gown had slipped and Frigga had seen, she said, something far worse than mere bruises--a dark line of red as if she'd been cut, or struck by a birch rod.

Similar to the cuts on Darcy's back. A fact that only made his heart heavier as the facts rang ever more true.

He'd wanted to speak to Thor then, but it was too late--Loki came to him first. Poor, innocent boy that he still was, he'd described the extent of her wounds, the dire threats that had kept her silent, and her fear of the man his son had grown to become.

Their future king could not be found guilty, so he had lain the blame at Loki's feet instead. After all, he'd admitted to bedding her--it wasn't inconceivable that he'd done so for months, and caused the injuries himself. But his conscience knew better, and he couldn't even bring himself to be present when the verdict was delivered. For two days, Loki would neither speak nor eat, only pacing his room until well into the night. The All-Father knew that he had done a terrible wrong, but never guessed how great until they carried her frail body in, Loki at her side and weeping--openly--not caring who felt it unmanly or unseemly. 

On one look, he saw Loki's faith in him wither and die, and later, he'd looked at the body himself. There were layers of scars and bruises that spoke of unknown months of torture, but she'd never spoken a word to anyone but his gentle, quiet, younger son. Then he'd seen the marks on her temple and chin such as were left in battle when a man's neck was twisted until it snapped. The reach was too broad and the thumbprint along the jaw far too wide for Loki's thin hands to manage

The death was declared a suicide, and he allowed the rumor to spread that she had suffered an illness and taken her own life before it could claim her.

After all that, the unexpected friendship with Sif seemed to have a steadying effect on Thor. Then had come the Midgardian woman, Jane, and by all accounts he'd treated her gently. She seemed to have _changed_ something in him that gave Odin fresh hope. Whatever darkness had taken his eldest son seemed to finally have dissipated and he was, at last, saved--though it had cost his second son in the process. 

And now, as he sat on his golden throne with head lower than his heart, realizing that he'd ultimately lost them _both_ , Odin, had he not been a king, would have wept.


	2. Decisions reached and hard truths faced

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki examines his new cell, and there is a very long talk between Frigga and Odin concerning what must be done.

The cell, at least, was a relatively pleasant one, furnished with most of the comforts of home. Indeed, many of the books and much of the furniture had simply been moved from his own quarters, making it as comfortable as possible.

Loki knew by now that word had reached the All-Fathers ears of _all_ that had occurred during their little trip to Midgard. His own crimes, of course--the reason he himself had been sealed away here, far beneath the shining halls of the Palace Eternal-- but Thor's as well, and given Loki's sudden exoneration for the abuse and death of Astrid during his own trial, there must have been _some_ re-examination of the facts. 

Though his hands may still be stained with blood, it was strangely heartening to know that there was at least one drop less there, now.

Nothing further had been said, no explanation given--it was merely a footnote to the listing of all his other crimes, raising a few eyebrows in surprise, his own among them. He'd wanted to ask at the time--if he was _not_ to blame, then who _was_? But they had wisely kept him muzzled during the proceedings. To his delight, though, he found that Thor was conspicuously absent. With any luck, he had trial of his own to attend.

**** **** **** ****

The Thunderer had been different since his return to the Palace. Strangely withdrawn and quiet, speaking with very few and them only absently. Most assumed that it was only concern for his brother that affected him, but some truths couldn't be hidden, at least not for long.

Sif now looked at him with an open disdain that bordered on outright hatred. Hogun's face, as expressionless as ever, simply turned from him--though on the rare occasions when their eyes _did_ meet, there was a cold anger there that suggested murder would be too kind for him. Even Fandral stopped smiling when he caught sight of the prince, unusually close-lipped as they passed in the corridors. Then there was Volstagg, who had daughters of his own. He simply lowered his eyes as if he had no idea what to say to his old friend, now.

The file--somehow--had actually made its way to Asgard itself. In truth it had been tucked away in Loki's coat as they'd made the trip, but no matter--he'd ensured that Thor's beloved friends, Odin, and even Frigga had seen it now. Thus, he assumed, the re-assessment of his own culpability in the death of fair Astrid, and perhaps even the relative leniency of his sentence--a full human lifetime for every death he'd caused, directly or otherwise. It could honestly have been worse--death, for example, or a full Aesir's lifetime behind prison walls. 

Exile on Midgard, of course, would have suited him nicely (and there, again, the faint strawberry scent of her hair and the light, skimming brush of her fingertips over his skin) but given that he'd just lain waste to one of their major cities, that seemed a bit too much to hope for. 

Of course, if there was any chance in the meanwhile of escaping, he would take it--and there were always chances of that. It was one of the things he did best, after all.

As they'd initially led him to his cell and finally removed the muzzle, Loki had eyed his surroundings with a sigh. It was... quiet, and still, and oppressively boring, no matter how well-appointed it was. Now, he wondered how many of the creature comforts were out of pity from Frigga, or guilt from Odin. That thought alone wrested a smile from his parched lips, and he poured a glass of water from the nearby pitcher to cleanse the metallic taste from his mouth. Another smile glimmered as he imagined the reaction at court to his brother's little indiscretions.

Settling in with a book from the nearby shelf, he let the smile linger a while before losing himself in its pages.

**** **** **** ****

"We spoiled him," Frigga said softly, echoing her husband's own thoughts. "You remember the others, and how we always kept his secret... Were it any other boy, he'd have had to pay for his crimes. Everyone would have known, he'd have been..." She shrugged a shoulder helplessly. "Shunned, perhaps; shamed for what he'd done, but maybe that would have been for the best."

Odin's voice rumbled quietly, "What point is there in discussing what _should_ have been? The fact remains that we did none of those things, and now... now it has come to this.

She sat near the window, heedless of his words and near to tears as her mind re-traced every step of what could have been; what _should_ have been if only they'd made the right choices. Somehow, she'd failed them both--even though it was Odin's duty and his decisions that guided the children ultimately, she was a mother, and like all mothers, she blamed herself.

Loki had always been her favorite, and maybe _that_ was the error--maybe if she'd spent more time with Thor, taught him the respect for women that his brother seemed to grasp so intuitively...

She squared her shoulders and pulled herself together, struggling to keep her head high and the tears at bay. "What can we do for him _now_?" she asked softly.

"What else _can_ we do?" came the grumbling reply. "We both know what he's guilty of, and clearly he will not stop. Exile would only do more damage, and... I fear for that girl's life if he ever comes near her again."

Shifting uncomfortably in her jeweled silks, the goddess nodded. "Like... Astrid."

He turned in shock. In truth, he had forgotten the girl's name, but more importantly he'd never, ever known that Frigga had guessed the truth of her death. He'd tried so hard to hide it from her, protect her from it, but somehow with that uncanny way of hers, still she knew.

Her face was grim, eyes distant as she gazed out the window and back into the past. "I thought that would be the end of it. I don't know why, but I hoped, I suppose, that whatever darkness had taken him would finally be appeased and he could be again as other men were."

"Clearly," Odin said dryly, his tone more cruel than it perhaps ought to have been, "that was _not_ the case, and now the question remains: What's to be _done_ about this? I have greater concerns than his future as a man, Frigga. He is my only heir, destined to be king of Asgard--"

Her head snapped up, fear in her eyes. "He must _never_ be king of Asgard. There are others you could choose--one of his uncles, perhaps--anyone, but Thor must never take the throne. No matter how deeply you love him, you must see that."

The All-Father took in this simple truth, his eyes closed in pain. He felt more than weary; he felt _old_. No, Thor--his son, his beloved son--would never be king, and because of it the House of Odin would be forever stained with shame; all for the good of Asgard. As for the boy himself... There was nothing they could do. Whispers spread like wildfire, and would not be quelled this time. No woman would come near him. And now this--that he would never take the throne.

Still, Odin feared it would not be punishment enough to suit the rabble outside or the strife within their own hallowed halls. The punishment must be public, and it must be clear what crimes he was being held accountable for.

Quietly, he explained to his wife what must be done. She wept, first silently with face hidden by her hands and then openly, with her arms around his waist, shoulders shaking with the pain of a mother who wanted desperately to save her son--her _sons_ \--but powerless to do so.


	3. Justice served

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's punishment, and an unexpected surprise for Loki.

The whipping was limited to the court alone. A few stray villagers may have crept inside to watch, but they kept silent for fear of being caught, and Odin thought he saw at lease one familiar face, older now, with the steel of outrage still in her eyes as she watched the proceedings.

It was all curiously quiet, and grim as only such things can be. Thor was led to the post in the center of the courtyard, chest bared and arms tied behind him, then his wrists lashed to a hook on the other side, just at the top.

Frigga had stayed in her rooms, unable to bear the sight, but it was Odin's duty to oversee, no matter how much he loathed it or how every blow of the whip pierced his own heart. There was no proper count decreed; it was over when it was over, just as he had rarely given a warning count to his victims. His hands tightened on the leather that bound him, after the first whistling strikes fell, teeth gritted as he refused to cry or to cry out, numbly enduring each blow that jolted him: payment for Darcy, and for Astrid, and for every girl who'd spoken out, and for those who would not or could not. For the girl who had nearly died from wounds internal, too grievous to imagine. Like Darcy, a rib cracked under one particularly ferocious blow. Unlike Darcy, he had no means of escape.

Eventually, silent tears flowed down the Prince's face as the blood from countless marks covered his skin. Only then did Odin stand and declare--his voice echoing through the silent circle like the booming echo of his staff, "Enough!" and Thor was unbound, led away by two guards, his weight resting between them as weakened legs stumbled. 

He would not be touched by the healers for 24 hours. Such was the decree.

**** **** **** ****

Alone in his glass-lined cage beneath the shining Palace, even Loki's face was grim. Unable to attend himself, he had simply tapped into the mind of a guard to borrow his eyes--else he'd have torn the place part in fury at being denied his place among the witnesses. And although blood had been shed for blood already spilled, it left him feeling... strangely hollow. Was this what Darcy would have wanted? Was it even what he _himself_ wanted?

As he closed his eyes and withdrew from the borrowed mind, he felt a sense of unfamiliar pity for his "brother." Could he help being what he was any more than Loki himself could? 

And then, the fall of small footsteps, the familiar rustle of silk.

"My son," Frigga said softly, her hand against the glass. It was a sweet shock to see her face again, but a painful one at the same time.

"I know what they did." he said softly, his hand pressed to hers with only the glass between them. "But I know not what to feel about it."

The pain in her ageless face was so deep that he wished he'd said nothing at all. "I've come with a secret," she said, as if the subject of Thor's punishment had never been broached. "This must remain between us." The ghost of a smile nearly touched her lips, but faltered before it could rise. "I've arranged for you to see her again. No one else knows of it, and no one _must_ know, but before the moon wanes again, you _will_ see her. I promise it. Only swear that you will return. Swear it to _me_ , my son."

Strange that no matter how often he'd sworn Odin was not his father nor Thor his brother, he could never deny the woman standing before him with her jewel-bright eyes as a mother to him. He privately applauded her wit in coaxing the vow from him herself, knowing that no one else could have made him take an oath that he would ever keep. But... To her...

He nodded quickly, his eyes on hers. "I swear it. I would swear anything, to see her again. ...Anything."

She nodded in turn, just a quick bob of her head. "Then it will be so." Glancing up the stairs, she gathered her skirts, hand leaving the glass. "I must go, and I don't know when this will happen in exact time--but it will happen. Have faith."

As she left the room, Loki's thoughts spun wildly between pity for his brother and this new, unexpected joy. That he would see her again was like a dream made real. He narrowly resisted the urge to pinch his own arm; if it _was_ a dream, he had no wish to awaken.

**** **** **** ****

The final decree was made before a small gathering of the court while Thor was still with the healers. It was a brief, coldly officious affair. Frigga and Odin sat, their hands gripped together firmly as Thor's friends, at last moved again to begin considering him so, all listened blankly.

The full charges--at least the proven ones--were listed. Sif's mouth tightened to a thin line at the mention of rape, and all exchanged glances at the mention of Astrid. Thankfully, none of the crimes listed included murder, but it mattered little for the loss he still suffered.

He was allowed to keep Mjolnir, and his title as prince and defender of the realm, but he would never ascend to the throne, never take a bride, and any woman who spent more than a fortnight in his company would be examined by the healers. If he was caught abusing another woman, he would be stripped of his status, his hammer, and--depending on the severity--sentenced to the same punishment as Loki for the remainder of his life.

"There are some crimes even a prince of Asgard cannot escape justice from," Odin said softly. "Frigga and I--" he paused, squeezing her hand, "--Take our own responsibility for this. For too many years, we spoiled him. We new the truth but we kept it hidden. We... hoped that it was only youthful indiscretion and he would outgrow it; that it would pass in time if only we waited. But I fear we waited _too_ long. We failed Thor, and Asgard as well. Say not that my son brought shame upon the House of Odin. No--his shame is _our_ shame.

He blinked away tears as he dismissed the assembly, not turning back to see their faces but instead remembering Thor's final look as they'd led him from his room to be healed. There had been no anger there, only the lost uncertainty of a little boy, adrift in a world he could not understand.

But then again, he saw Astrid's desperate, pleading look as they'd returned her to his care. Saw the hopelessness, the resignation, and finally those broad thumbprints along her jaw. 

Silently, he turned and walked from the room. There was nothing more to be said or done.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Was justice done?


End file.
